Sleepless in Los Angeles
by Mindy35
Summary: CASKETT. Missing scenes for "To Love and Die in LA". While in LA, Castle and Beckett sleep together.


Title: Sleepless in Los Angeles

Author: mindy35

Rating: K+, adult themes.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Marlowe, ABC etc, not me. Lyrics are by Eddie Vedder. No infringement intended/money made.

Spoilers: "Under the Gun", "To Love and Die in LA".

Pairings: Castle/Beckett, Beckett/Royce, Beckett/Josh.

Summary: Missing scene(s) from "To Live and Die in LA". While in Los Angeles, Castle and Beckett sleep together.

-x-x-x-

"_Practiced are my sins, never gonna let me win, uh huh,_

_Under everything just another human being, uh huh,_

_Yeah, I don't wanna hurt, there's so much in this world,_

_To make me bleed. Stay with me. You're all I see._

_...  
_

_Nothing you would take, everything you gave,_

_Hold me til I die. Meet you on the other side."_

-x-_  
_

Castle wakes at 2:47 and takes a moment to recall where he is. His surroundings remind him of his spur of the moment trip to Los Angeles and the fact that he's currently sharing a lavish hotel suite with Kate Beckett. A grieving and deadly determined Kate Beckett. It's a situation that's making his normal ability to slip into a deep, untroubled sleep utterly impossible.

After they retired to their separate rooms, he spent a few hours trying to concentrate on his latest manuscript. A fruitless endeavor since his eyes kept being drawn from his work to his closed bedroom door, spending measureless minutes staring at its unmoving surface. He was all too aware that it was one of only two slim structures separating him from the woman who'd ruthlessly hijacked his imagination three years before. Instead of the ceaseless cluster of doors and streets and cabs and crimes that separated their beds in New York, on this sultry California night, Kate Beckett was a mere ten paces and single hypothetical knock away. With his mind tormented by such dangerously close hypotheticals, Castle eventually gave up on proofing his draft and turned out the light. He tossed and turned for an hour or so – dreaming terrible dreams of his friend, muse and partner, dead in an alley, a bullet in her brain, her eyes wide and vacant – before his parched throat woke him.

Switching on the bedside light, Castle swings his feet to the floor and drags a hand through his hair. He shuffles to the door in a semi-conscious state, yawning widely and sticking a hand up under his t-shirt to scratch his stomach. He halts when he opens his door and sees the one opposite also ajar. The bed has been turned down and the sheets show the aftereffects of receiving a body but not for very long it seems. Eyes now open and awake, he scans the spacious lounge room, dark except for one lit lamp. His eyes find her sitting by the tall bank of windows, staring out at the city. A chair has been dragged right up to the window's edge and in it is curled a contemplative Kate. Dressed in leggings and a loose tee, her face is hidden from his view by some mussed hair and one hand curled against her temple.

"Kate?" he murmurs, voice cracking with tiredness. "You okay?"

Kate glances his way, eyebrows lifting in surprise. He's caught her off-guard – something she typically tries to avoid, especially with him. It takes a moment for her to put her face in place and even when she does, her expression appears somewhat shaky.

"Yeah…" she replies, her voice disembodied in the near darkness. "Yeah. I was just…" she turns to the window again, gazes out it for a moment before completing her sentence, "…thinking."

Castle looks down at himself, his favorite t-shirt, practically worn to threads in places, his blue checkered boxers and big, bare feet. He yanks his hand out of his shirt, smoothing the material over his belly, then pats his hair down in a lame attempt to make himself more presentable. "I, ah…" he points to the minibar in one corner, "I needed some water. Can I…get you a glass?"

Her gaze turns on him again and he hears her smile more than sees it. "Sure."

He moves towards the bar, switching on a second lamp. The silence in the room is piercingly palpable. They are so far above the city that no sound reaches them. Each clink of the glasses on the bench echoes round the sleek, stylish walls. Beckett tries to hide a small sniff in the breathy pat of the fridge door closing. But he catches it. Hiding his scrutiny beneath furrowed brows, Castle casts a glance at her as he pours the water. He sees her stealthily swipe some tears from her eyes while she thinks he's occupied, patting at her wet lashes with the pads of her fingers. He averts his eyes as he heads towards her with the water, giving her a few extra moments to collect herself.

"Here."

"Thanks."

She smiles as he hands her the chilled glass and up close Castle can see the redness rimming her eyes. Without the armor of makeup, her emotions play over her familiar features without anywhere to conceal themselves from him. Knowing as he does how staunchly Kate Beckett prefers to protect her heart, the sight makes him feel uneasy, embarrassed, like he is witnessing something private, something he hasn't a right to. At the same time, seeing the woman he knows so well and admires so intensely dressed in just her pyjamas with a naked face and unpainted eyes is so profoundly fascinating to him that he has to force his avid eyes to look away. As with everything Kate Beckett related, it's what isn't revealed that draws him in, keeps him watching and waiting and wondering.

"You thinking about Royce?" he asks her, leaning a shoulder against the window frame, a safe distance from where she sits.

Beckett doesn't answer for several moments. She looks out the window some more, slowly tracing the rim of her glass with the tip of a finger. "You know, we slept together once," she says eventually, her voice drained and dreamy.

Castle shifts on the spot, startled by her opening admission. He's unsure she even realizes she spoke it aloud until she tilts her head and looks him in the eye. He doesn't know what's prompted such sudden honestly from her – whether it's delayed grief, the late hour, their distance from their usual lives or a combination of all these elements. Nor does he know what reaction she's expecting from him. He only knows he wants her to continue.

"I…didn't know that," he replies carefully. "I didn't realize you two were…involved that way."

"We weren't," she mutters, gaze lowered to her hands, interlaced around the chiseled crystal. "It was only once. Shortly after we went our separate ways professionally." She lifts her glass to her lips but doesn't drink. "And it was my idea, not his."

"I don't imagine you'd be an easy woman to turn down," he murmurs, watching her tip up her chin and drink.

"Well." She draws in a breath, her attention drifting back to the glittering lights of La-La Land. "He did. He came to my apartment the following night. Told me straight up that it couldn't happen, _we…_couldn't happen. He gave a bunch of reasons, let me down easy but…he knew."

"Knew?"

"That I loved him. I'd been in love with him…" she shakes her head, releases a dismal laugh, "God, for years. And I know he…I know he cared about me. But…not in the way I wanted him to."

Castle bobs his head a few times. Then, dragging a second chair closer, he settles opposite her with a long sigh. "I think most of us have been there."

Her brows flick upwards. "You, Castle? Really?"

He smiles, head tipped to one side. "Why does that surprise you?"

Beckett is silent a moment, head shaking. "It just does."

"Well, in my experience…" he leans forward, elbows on his knees and glass dangling from his fingertips, "unrequited love is the suckiest kind." He takes a swig of water before adding, "Unless you count those weird people who marry their cats."

"Which I don't," she murmurs with a smile.

"Me neither," he says, returning her smile.

"Royce lost his wife very young," she tells him after another brief pause and another sip of water. "Leukaemia."

Castle leans back in his chair. "I see."

"I don't think he ever got over her. Or wanted to." She brushes some imaginary lint off her leg, lips lifting in a part rueful, part fond smile. "So I…I wasn't a woman to him, I was just some stubborn, unruly kid."

"You, stubborn?" He frowns at her in feigned confusion. "Find that hard to imagine."

"Ha-ha," she mumbles into her drink.

His expression morphs into one of lusty curiosity. "Imagining you unruly, however—"

"Give that rampant imagination of yours a rest, Castle." She kicks a foot out, scoring his knee with a mild skin-on-skin slap. "Or you'll see me get really unruly."

Castle can't help the smile that spreads across his face. "Is that a threat? Or a promise?"

Her eyes flash at him but her tone betrays her amusement. "Trust me when I say you do not want to find out."

"Fair enough." He nods once. Then spends a minute hastily committing to memory this tantalizing glimpse he's getting of Kate au naturale. Unlike some of her sex, Kate looks neither younger nor older minus all the additives women think they need. She simply looks…more. More her. Her particular sparkle is amplified, her essence clarified by her unmasking. Her Kateness seems far more apparent than the Beckettness she habitually assumes for the benefit of her job and sanity.

"So." Castle clears his throat, looks away. "Did you take your rejection like a man?"

"Worse," she muses, her smile fading and voice growing gradually lower as she goes on. "I took it like the stubborn, unruly kid I was. Mike stayed with me though. All night. Held me while I slept. Ignored me sniffing into my pillow. When I woke the next morning…" she gives a lost little shrug, "he was gone. We kept in contact. Sort of. But that morning was the last I saw of him until..."

"Until he stole your suspect out from under you while driving a sweet sunshine-yellow hot rod?"

She nods her head then shakes it, her tone taking on an extra urgency. "I have to believe he was a good man, Castle, despite what he did then. Despite all of it – the rejection, the deceit, the betrayal – I still feel like…I owe him so much. Even if I catch this McCauley guy—"

"Not if. You will. _We _will."

"I'm not sure it'll ever be enough. Even now, I'm still trying to prove myself to him. I guess I never really stopped."

"Well—" Castle drains his glass and shifts to the edge of his seat, "I think you should stop long enough to get some rest. Neither of us will be up to chasing down bad guys if we don't get our beauty sleep. Especially me."

Beckett waves a dismissive hand towards her abandoned bedroom. "I can't sleep in there. I can't sleep in strange beds, I've never been able to."

"Wanna swap?" he asks, brows raised.

She casts him an incredulous smile. "What?"

He shrugs. "Maybe the feng shui in my room is more conducive to slumber."

"Your room is pretty much identical to mine," she points out, still smiling.

"Except that mine's been artfully strewn with dirty socks and shirts."

"Thanks for the offer, it's…tempting. But I think I'll stay up a little longer." She lifts her glass in a mini-salute. "Drink my water."

Stifling a yawn, Castle hesitates before returning to his room. "Do you want me to sit with you? You're under no obligation to reveal more salacious details about your sex-life but it will help keep me awake if you do."

"It's okay, Castle," she murmurs, her smile wearying. "Go on and get some sleep."

He nods sleepily and rises, heading for his bed. Turning back though, he sees that she has set aside her water and resumed her contemplation of the dusky Los Angeles landscape. Coiled in the leather chair, her posture drooping with fatigue, she looks smaller than usual and uncharacteristically unprotected.

"You're sure there's nothing you need?" he asks from the threshold. "Nothing I can do?"

He takes a minor risk in asking. He knows that. He knows that even if there is something she needs, the chances of her voicing it are slim. The chances of her actually allowing _him_ give her whatever she needs are….unpredictable and unknown. He asks anyway though, always anticipating the day she trusts him enough to reveal the reality of her desires.

Her head turns his way but her expression is illegible in the low light. The Hollywood hills glitter behind her as she tells him with deliberately evasive quietness, "Nothing I can ask of you."

Castle pauses, puzzled. He takes a step back towards her. "You can ask anything of me."

Beckett gives a polite nod, her mouth set in a straight line.

He takes few more steps towards her. "I mean it. Anything."

She cocks her head and when her eyes meet his again, there's a clear warning in them.

"What?" he mutters, taken aback. "What's _that _look?"

She shifts uncomfortably, quickly cutting eye contact with him. "I have a boyfriend, Castle."

"What's that got to do with anything? Did I—" He glances behind himself as though looking to locate a lost moment in time. "Did I somehow proposition you in an indecent but unwitting fashion and miss the entire thing?"

Her mouth curls up in one corner. "You know, I bet that actually happens to you."

"It actually has." He scratches his belly through his shirt. "My charisma is incapable of containment, it seems."

"Seems so," she muses, eyes flitting over him before lowering to the plush carpeting. "But that doesn't change the fact that I have a boyfriend back in New York—" she pauses before pressing on, voice faltering and brows contracted, "—one who also doesn't like strange beds. He doesn't like…_my bed_. And he's almost always on call. And even when I stay at his place, he's a restless sleeper and he sleeps all bunched up and…" she sighs, meeting his clouded gaze for the briefest moment, "he's not a snuggler, Castle."

Castle heads back to the chair he vacated and stands behind it, forearms propped on the back and fingers knit. "I wouldn't have pegged you as one either."

She shrugs a shoulder. "Sometimes it's nice. To be held." Her eyes lift to his. "Don't you think?"

He nods slowly, eyes fixed on her face. "I do."

She licks her lips, bites away a shy smile. It takes her awhile but eventually she murmurs with more than a touch of cautious curiosity, "So, you…are one…then?"

"A snuggler?"

"Mm."

Castle studies her a moment, trying to read between the lines she isn't saying. He hopes he's judging the situation right when he tips his head towards his bedroom and replies in as un-propositional a tone as he can muster, "Wanna find out?"

Her expression gives little away. She blinks at him, continues gnawing on her lip. But her breath also catches and her eyes start to glitter with an ache she probably isn't aware of exposing and doesn't expect fulfilled.

He steps around the chair, holding out a hand. "Come on." When Beckett remains immobile and undecided, he reaches down and picks up her hand. "Come."

She pulls back on his hand, resisting momentarily, glaring up at him with a dark, forbidding eyes. "_Just_. Snuggling. Right?"

Castle smiles, quirking a brow. "I can keep my hands to myself if you can."

He gives her hand another gentle tug and this time, she relents. Her legs unfurl, her feet drop to the floor and she silently lets him lead her into his bedroom. He releases her hand at the foot of the bed, moving to his side while Beckett heads for the unused half. She faces him across the luxurious expanse of mattress, a dubious little gleam in her eye.

"Sure you can handle this, Castle?" she asks, pulling back the covers on her side.

Castle puts his hands on his hips, attempting a purposeful pose in his tatty t-shirt and wrinkled underwear. "I've made it my chief mission in life to handle whatever you dish out, Detective."

She considers him a moment, lips pursed, before flicking her eyes at the bed. "Then get in."

Castle obeys, sliding into the dint he was working on earlier. Beckett doesn't make a move and looks liable to bolt at any moment. She watches him settle back against the headboard, one arm bent over the pillow beside him. It's meant as an invitation, an innocuous one. It's meant merely as an option, one he's pretty sure she wants but isn't sure she'll claim. Hopefully it also answers her earlier question about whether or not he's open to snuggling. That single cocked arm is responding subtly but unequivocally in the affirmative. He blinks up at her, lifting the hand resting on the vacant pillow in wordless inquiry. Beckett lowers her gaze, swallows then climbs in.

"This okay?" she asks as she shifts in close, fitting herself into the niche he created for her.

"Mm-hm," Castle nods, letting his arm enclose her very lightly. He glances about the room, feet fidgeting beneath the covers. "How do you like the feng shui?"

"I like it," she notes, glancing about as well. "I like it a lot."

"Me too." He looks down at her. "Think you can sleep?"

She shakes her head then lets it drop to his shoulder. "Probably not. But don't let me stop you from getting some."

His eyes narrow. "Some…?"

She glances up at him. "Sleep, Castle. _Sleep_."

"Uh. Wait. I have an idea—" He disturbs them momentarily, leaning over to retrieve his manuscript from the bedside table.

Her head lifts, her interest piqued. "Is that what I think it is?"

"First draft." Castle waggles his eyebrows at her. "Fancy a super special sneak peek?"

She snuggles closer, her knees bumping his thigh under the covers. "As long as it involves murder and mystery and not—"

"Masterful depictions of making out?" he finishes for her, reaching for his glasses and slipping them on.

"The glasses are cute," she notes, examining this look with a small smile.

"I only need them when my eyes are tired," he says, a tinge of justification to his tone.

Kate gives a little hum. "They're geeky. But…cute."

Castle casts her a sideways glance and opens to the first chapter. "Are you teasing me, oh muse of mine?"

"No," she answers then nods at the page. "Read. I'm sure I'll be asleep in no time."

"Oh, there's the razor-sharp wit that inspired my greatest fictitious creation."

"I'm yawning already. Could you just…?" She peers at his words, lips parted in anticipation.

He pulls the manuscript away from her prying eyes. "A little eager, are we? Alright – here we go then…" Clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses, Castle begins to read, giving the introductory sentence of his newest Nikki Heat novel all the flourish it deserves.

His muse responds with a resounding yawn. After which, she looks up at him with a sheepish expression. "That was not me being facetious, I swear. It's a cracker of an opening, Castle. It's just…been a long day."

Castle tries not to look miffed, dropping the book to his lap. "Do you want me to continue?"

Beckett gives a single definite nod. "Yes, please, the suspense is killing me."

"After one sentence?" He lifts the script again, remarking with an awed sigh, "God, I'm good…"

-x-

Castle wakes alone, sprawled on his stomach over the side of his bed that for a short time belonged to Kate Beckett. He releases a contented groan into the mattress. He slept well. For those last few hours at least. As did his unlikely bed partner. He knows. Because he witnessed it.

He should be offended. He was barely halfway through the first chapter of his hotly anticipated new novel when he noticed that her breath had evened out, her limbs had grown slack and her head felt heavy on his shoulder. When he looked down, Kate's eyes were closed, her eyelashes still against her cheeks. He quietly set the book to one side, took off his glasses and turned out the lamp. Then, trying not to disturb her, Castle scooted further down in the bed, dragging her with him as gently as he could. Her eyes had opened as he resituated them, finding his in the darkness. She'd gazed at him for a heart-stopping second or two, her face mere millimeters from his, her breath brushing his breastbone. Dark eyes had held his, half open but not quite awake, recognizing him but not questioning his presence beside her. Then they drifted closed again and her slumber resumed, as did his breathing.

He vaguely remembers them shifting positions during the night, subconscious need overruling shy propriety. He remembers his arm, his hand being clutched to her chest as he enfolded her. He remembers his nose burrowing sleepily but deeply into the nape of her neck, his lips resting against her sweet-smelling hair. Castle smiles, still partially suspended in that glorious dreamland and reluctant to leave it. The previous night confirmed a long-held suspicion of his that Kate Beckett's long, lithe frame was the perfect inner spoon to his outer. He'd been delighted to discover that they fit together like they'd been built to, like two lost pieces of a much greater puzzle.

Only now, his other piece has gone AWOL.

Castle rolls onto his back, taking her pillow with him and holding it over his face. He breathes deep, inhaling her scent, a scent he knows well enough to identify blindfolded. Usually, he only gets a fleeting whiff of it as he trails her from place to place. This is far more concentrated and far more satisfying. He inhales again, all the time berating himself for behaving like a character from the sort of novels he detests. He should have expected to wake without her. He should have expected her to run. Not that he thought as far as morning when he invited her into his bed. But there's only a certain level of intimacy Kate Beckett can tolerate. However much it frustrates him at times, he knows her well enough to understand that what occurred between them the night before broaches the boundaries she's erected about herself, boundaries that he knows from personal experience are fiercely fortified. Even the slightest infraction and those guardrails can come crashing down on him, barring his access.

He pulls the pillow off his face with a huff, steeling himself to meet whatever version of his partner lies beyond his bedroom door. Sometimes getting to know Katherine Beckett felt like a game of one step forward, two steps back. While the unprecedented pleasure of getting to know Kate the Snuggler must count as one giant step forward, he assumes that Kate the Self-Sufficient has since taken two very distinct steps back from him. A distance she'll no doubt expect him to honor until she's once again ready to let him close. Rolling out of bed, Castle reaches for the fluffy robe thrown over a nearby chair. Beckett already got an eyeful of his gym-starved physique stripped down to the bare essentials but the extra layer provides him with some small measure of protection as well as a shred of manly dignity. Also, he is very much enjoying its silky-smooth texture.

When he cracks the door, he does so quietly, warily. She may be barricaded away in her bedroom applying layers of Beckettness. Or she may be out running, literally inserting miles between them. She's not though. She's working. She's found a board, she's resuming her hunt. He might've expected that too. Work is the one place she can always find herself. The one place he can always find her. He studies her for a moment while she's unaware, searching for tells as to her mood. When he does speak, there's a question underpinning his tone. It's answered the second she turns and sees him. Kate flashes him a bright smile. An easy smile, a warm smile. They are okay. She is okay. She looks happy, she looks rested. Castle feels a small surge of pride fill his breast. She's no longer the heartbroken woman who sat slumped, gazing out at the stars in solitary grief. And that, at least partly, is because of him.

-x-

Beckett is packed and ready before he is. Which is unsurprising. She probably even rolled her clothes into neat little swirls so they don't get all wrinkled. And she probably didn't pinch her plush hotel bathrobe or a single bottle of complimentary shampoo. She appears as he's throwing the last of his belongings in the general direction of his suitcase and just stands on the threshold, watching him dash about the room, hastily shoving things into whatever free space he can find. Eventually, she takes a breath and speaks, her tone tentative.

"So I…wanted to say thanks. For…" She waves a hand, eyes darting to his now immaculately made bed.

"Sleeping with you?" Castle smirks, facing her just in time to catch the involuntary glance.

Beckett rolls her eyes, shucks her discomfort and heads for the bed. "I was gonna keep it vague and say 'everything'. Following me out here, being my backup—"

"Putting you to sleep with my prose…" He turns back to the bed, resumes stuffing his nice new robe into his much too small suitcase. "You know, I'm gonna try not to take that as a personal insult."

Locating his book amongst the chaos, Kate's eyes linger a moment on the title page before she hands it to him. "Take it as constructive criticism, Castle."

Castle chuckles sadistically. "Oo-oo! _Ouch_…" He shoves the scrawled on, dog-eared pages into his carry-on, zips it then faces her. "But you are welcome for—"

"'Everything'?" she asks with a hopeful lift of her brows.

"If that's what you prefer to call it." He zips his other bag then shoots a sly look at her from beneath his brows. "Not that I need to be thanked for sleeping with a beautiful woman, however cruel her tongue may be the morning after."

"Well…" she ducks her head and, after a second of hesitation, reaches out and squeezes his arm, "thank you anyway."

Castle nods, murmuring a soft: "Anytime."

She meets his eyes and returns his smile, allowing the moment to stretch between them a little longer than she normally would. Then Beckett starts for the door, her voice taking on a firmer quality. "And, Castle – last night was about mutually agreed upon snuggling, not the two of us _sleeping together_. At least, not in the sense your subtext was implying."

"My subtext and I have no idea what you mean."

"Believe me, if we'd _slept together_—"

"We _did_," he interjects quietly, "sleep together."

"I mean in a…" she turns back, shrugging a shoulder, "dysphemistic sense."

His brows shoot up. "Dysphemistic? You're seriously going to use the word 'dysphemistic'? Right to my face?"

Her eyes cut to one side. "I think I just did."

Castle eyes her a moment, gaping in disbelief. "Ms Beckett, are you seeking to seduce me with this blatant display of lexical skill? Because if you keep talking like that, it will definitely work. And I should warn you, I may not be responsible for my actions."

"I was merely trying to make a point."

"Which was?"

Beckett rolls her eyes and continues on her path to the door. "That you seem to have difficulty grasping the distinction between innocent snuggling and, you know…_sleeping_."

"Hm. Well…" Castle shoulders one bag and tugs the other behind him, trailing her to the bedroom door, "perhaps my memory of last night is clouded. By all that deep, satisfying sleep. Because while the snuggling was admittedly first-rate, I do seem to recall some pretty solid sleep going on as well. I could tell by the contented drool emanating from one corner of your mouth."

Beckett rounds on him, hair flying and face frowning. "Excuse me?"

"_This_ corner," he circles a finger at her lips, eyes zeroing in on the corner in question, "right here…"

She pulls back from his scrutiny, eyes narrowed. "I do not _drool_."

He smirks, skimming a palm over his chest. "My favorite t-shirt would disagree."

"Castle." Her eyes narrow further. "I don't drool."

"It was some of the cutest drooling I've ever seen," he offers with a thoughtful air. "I mean, if that helps."

"Cute or no," she leans in to give her words extra stress, "I'm _not_ a drooler."

"Alright, Beckett." Castle places a hand on her shoulder, gives his head a condescending tilt. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Slowly, Beckett turns to look at the offending hand, arching a brow at it before aiming her eyes at him. "Mostly…?" She picks up his hand, drops it off her shoulder. "It's dreams about shooting you."

"So you dream about me, huh?" His lips curl upwards, voice dropping to a knowing rasp. "No wonder you couldn't help drooling."

She opens her mouth then shuts it again, shaking her head in exasperation. "You know what? I am way too sleep-deprived to carry on a conversation this absurd."

"Come on then," he grins, extending an arm to guide her out, "we can _not _sleep together some more on the flight home." Beckett shoots him a glare but strides ahead to meet the bellboy who's arrived to collect their luggage, leaving Castle to give his room a final onceover before swinging the door shut behind them.

_END._


End file.
